


Someone Worth Falling For

by Inkblot9



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gentleness, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Rain, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkblot9/pseuds/Inkblot9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Infatuation is when you find somebody who is absolutely perfect. Love is when you realize that they aren’t and it doesn’t matter." - Unknown</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Worth Falling For

A heavy rain was pattering steadily on the great windows of Marlinspike Hall. It was a Sunday better spent in simple cozy companionship, rather than fussing over any sort of business.

Archibald Haddock lay reclined on a sitting-room sofa. He was still wearing his pajamas and anchor-patterned robe, as there was no reason to dress up on a day like today. He lazily took a swig from the glass of golden whiskey in his hand.

After he swallowed, set down the glass, and wiped his beard on his sleeve, Haddock took a glance toward the man beside him. His dear lover appeared deeply relaxed, his eyes closed, his left arm dangling drowsily over the side of the couch. He looked beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so given the uncommon serenity. Such a break from their often-busy, often-dangerous lives was duly appreciated by them both.

Archibald might have been the heir to the Haddock treasure, the king of the castle Moulinsart, but Tintin was his prince.  _His far nobler, far handsomer, far wiser, far more worthy prince,_ the Captain thought gloomily. Times like these were nice in that they allowed him a chance to breathe, but at the same time, a lack of activity could drag him down into the darkest chasms of his mind.

Most days, it seemed he had moved far beyond the depression that had nearly claimed his life years ago. He lived well, now. He had a good home, he had good friends, he had riches most men could barely dream of…

…and he had Tintin.

How did somebody like Tintin end up with somebody like Captain Haddock? How had the famous, brave, clever, dashing young adventurer found it in himself to pair off with a washed-up old sea-urchin?

Tintin loved him. He knew that much. What he couldn’t always tell for sure was  _why_.

Well, if there was one thing he had learned from taking a journalist as a partner, it was that sometimes the only way to learn the truth was to seek it out yourself.

"Tintin? Lad?"

A gentle nudge to the shoulder broke the redhead from his trance. “Mmm…Archie?” he mumbled, turning his head. “What’s up?”

"Oh, er, well," the Captain stammered, "it’s nothing, really, I just—"

Tintin raised an eyebrow. In his career, he had become an expert at reading people, and by now he could read Haddock even better than he could anyone else.

"Oh, come on, none of that. Out with it."

The older man sighed. “Oh, darling Tintin,” he murmured, head in one hand, “it’s just…I don’t understand it.”

"Understand what, exactly?"

"How did you…I mean, I…I’m nobody special, really. Men like me are a dime a dozen, and men like you are once in an eon. I just can’t imagine how in thunderation you fell for me.”

Tintin’s eyes widened. Immediately he seemed to shake off his sleepiness, and he sat up to meet his partner nose-to-nose.

"Are you serious?" he asked at last.

Haddock had no reply.

"Captain…I didn’t simply fall  _for_  you,” Tintin said, softening his tone. “I fell in love  _with_  you. There’s a difference there, I think,” he continued, his freckly face taking on a thoughtful look.

"The way I see it," he went on after a moment’s pondering, "when you fall  _for_  someone, they’re…they become all you see. You tie yourself up in knots trying to please them, losing sight of your own self in the process. And through that, you don’t really get to know the other person that well either. You submit yourself to the mere  _idea_  of somebody, believing them to be perfect without taking in all that they truly are. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se; sometimes that’s the way things have to begin.”

Archibald allowed himself a nod, as memory began to flood over him. Memory of a certain pipsqueak tuft of ginger, whom the Captain thought must have been an angel, or a siren, or some sort of demigod, the night they met. The young man had been his salvation, and for a while, that was  _all_  he was in Haddock’s eyes. A hero. A savior. An image of absolute perfection.

"But then when you fall in love  _with_  someone, you’re beside them rather than beneath them, their equal rather than their subject. You stand next to them through thick and thin, through their faults as well as their virtues.” Tintin blinked, and then took Haddock’s hand in his. “Captain, I don’t want to hear you say those things about yourself, you understand? I love you for who you are. You’re perfect to me  _because_ you’re not flawless…A-and I’m far from flawless myself!” he added. “You know that.”

It was true. Seven years they’d known each other now, and in that time the Captain had seen his dearest friend at every point from his most courageous to his most vulnerable. He learned that Tintin was human, and once he did…he fell out of his childish infatuation, and into true, pure, heart-splitting, soul-shattering, all-conquering love. 

"Our relationship is not, and never has been, a matter of one of us falling face-down for the other and obsessing over his every whim! We’re partners—equals! We complete each other, build each other up, make each other better. You are as much a part of me as I am a part of you. And you have my solemn word that there is no one else I would rather stand beside—and fall with.” Tintin nestled his head into the crook of his lover’s neck, letting out a hum of contentment. “And for the record, men like you aren’t as common as you think. Why, dare I say it, I doubt even Sir Francis could compare to who you’ve become.”


End file.
